


One Coin, Two Sides

by Miratete



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Jekyll and Hyde, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 22:59:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15851181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miratete/pseuds/Miratete
Summary: For the better part of a meta-cycle, Thunderclash courted Rung aboard the Lost Light, much to the envy of most of the crew.  When the psychiatrist at last agreed to a relationship, he'd not expected anything like what he was seeing now.  Behind closed doors Thunderclash was a very different mech.





	One Coin, Two Sides

-o-o-o-o-o-

If you got what I need  
I can guarantee  
To return all the love  
That you've given to me  
But I've got to be sure that you'll always be around

Do you know what it takes to love me?  
Do you know what it takes to do me right?  
Do you know what it takes to love me, baby?

Lyrics from "Do You Know What it Takes" by Robyn

-o-o-o-o-o-

Rung whimpered as Thunderclash pushed even further into him even though he'd been sure the big mech couldn't possibly get any deeper. “You like that?” Thunderclash asked, his voice somewhere between a whisper and a snarl.

“Yes,” Rung bleated.

Immediately Thunderclash pulled back and shoved in again, the tip of his spike obscenely close to breaching the gates of Rung's gestation chamber, if such a thing were possible. “Are you ready to overload for me? To show me you love me?”

Rung cycled his vents yet again. His lover's tone was almost dark. The Thunderclash he'd known professionally and socially was the same as the Thunderclash that had courted him so charmingly. But the Thunderclash on top of him now was a completely different mech. Demanding. Domineering. Possessive. Controlling. When the Autobot hero had first approached him with a winning smile and an almost shy offer to join him in a game of rollback Rung had not expected this. Not in a thousand vorns.

And it was a touch frightening.

Thunderclash pulled back again and thrust once more, this time angling for the row of ceiling nodes. His unusually broad-headed spike stroked mercilessly up the sensitive nodes, causing Rung to cry out in pain-tainted pleasure. “Come for me now. Show me you belong to me. Your spark. Your mind. Your frame. Show me you love me, Rung,” came the sinister whispers.

Rung's charge had been ramped up to the edge of overload for far too long. His frame trembled, waiting for one more thing that would push him over that precipice. And a precipice it was. Thunderclash had brought him several times to this point but had sadistically pulled him back every time. And every time he'd been pulled back, leaving him trembling with want, Thunderclash had chuckled with cruel delight and told him to be patient. But over their long session the big Autobot had not restrained his own pleasure. He'd overloaded four times so far. First splashing transfluid over Rung's chestplate. Second, splattering it across Rung's face. Third, gushing it down Rung's throat. And fourth, smearing it across Rung's twitching array.

“Yes. Yes I'm ready,” mewled Rung despite knowing that once Thunderclash finally allowed him to cross that threshold between painful longing and fulfilled ecstasy he'd overload so hard he'd certainly offline for several breems. And what would Thunderclash do to him while he was unconscious?

“You want it, my love?” Thunderclash asked in a low voice.

“Yes! Yes of course! You've been denying me so far,” Rung gasped desperately.

A large hand pressed against Rung's lips. “Ah-ah. If you want it you have to be a good mech. No complaints.”

Rung stilled, the frenzied charge already beginning to spiral back down, and he stared at Thunderclash in disbelief. Was this really Thunderclash? Or had some other mech of the same frame and color scheme taken his place?

Thunderclash had courted him with the utmost respect for the the past stellar-cycle. He'd confidently sprinkled their liaisons with kind words, tiny gifts, quiet dates, romantic walks, charming praise, soft kisses, and a gentility Rung had thought long extinct. Tonight, over a couple glasses of engex, Thunderclash had announced his wish for an intimate and monogamous relationship with the psychiatrist. Completely charmed, Rung had accepted the unusual condition, something he'd never experienced before. Monogamy was often considered selfish to the point of perversion—among most Cybertronians at least. But Thunderclash was certainly worth forsaking any other lovers for. Pushing aside the drinks, they'd sparkmerged immediately as a show of commitment. And then the big Autobot took Rung by the hand and led him to his berth...

Thunderclash pulled his hand away. “Now will you be good?”

Rung answered with a silent nod.

“Good. Now ask me to overload you.”

Rung whimpered. What was Thunderclash's game? They were all but conjunxes at this point and just shy of a sparkbond. First he'd told him to overload, but now he was to beg for it?

“Do you want it, my love? I'll give it to you if you ask nicely.” His hips shifted slightly, rubbing Rung's ceiling nodes enough to tease them.

Was this why Thunderclash had spent so long in courtship? To make sure that the psychiatrist was head-over-heels in love with him so that he could treat him like this in the berth? With a whimper of surrender Rung swallowed his pride. “Please? Would you overload me?”

“Ask again. This time using my name.”

Unbelievable! If it wasn't for the fact that he had enthusiastically committed to the Autobot hero, and that right now he was so desperate for an overload his sensory network was being overwhelmed by ripples of static, he would have slapped Thunderclash and left.

Thunderclash's hand moved to Rung's throat and encircled it. A soft squeeze followed. “Rung?”

“Please Thunderclash. Would you overload me?” he asked humbly. His processors were digging hard into his memory banks. Was this some sort of condition that Thunderclash was suffering from? Or was it a kink?

“Again.”

Rung felt optic wash beginning to dampen his eyes, but it wasn't to sluice away dust. “Thunderclash please? I need to overload.”

“Do you?”

“Thunderclash, please. Please overload me. I need it.” Tears began to drip from his uncovered optics.

The colorful mech grinned again. “So needy, aren't you?”

The hand at Rung's throat did not release as Thunderclash began to pump his hips, slowly at first before picking up speed and pounding the orange mech harder.

“Please Thunderclash! I do need it. I need you,” Rung continued, afraid that the sought release would be denied again.

Thunderclash changed his angle once more, going back to rubbing the tip of his spike against the ceiling nodes and sending Rung tumbling into overload. “Thunderclash! Thunderclash!!” the smaller mech continued to cry out. “Thunderclash! Please! Yes! Thunderclash!!”

The fingers around Rung's neck tightened as the slender mech's climax drew to a peak. “You're mine, Rung. All mine. And mine alone.” Those words, followed by a howl announcing the other's own release, were the last thing Rung heard before crashing into oblivion.

-o-o-o-o-o-

When Rung onlined, he found himself still lying on his back in Thunderclash's berth. Thunderclash was wiping him down with a plush towel, and when the big mech noticed his lover was awake he paused to press a warm kiss to the side of Rung's mouth. “You were out a full four breems. That must have been some overload, sweetspark.” The voice had lost it's unnerving edge and was full of charisma once again.

“It was intense,” Rung responded, optics flickering to life. He hoped that was a safe statement. What was going on with Thunderclash? He definitely had to have either some mental condition or a seriously dark kink.

Thunderclash chuckled and kissed him playfully on the shoulder before going back to his wiping. “I hope I wasn't too cruel.”

Rung paused. “You were... unexpected,” he answered slowly.

Thunderclash gave a soft sigh. “I have particular needs.” He then looked at Rung with a mischievous smile on his lips. “And I'm glad I have you to meet them,” he said, his tone suddenly darkening. His gaze suddenly became... predatory.

“Thunderclash?”

The big mech tossed aside the towel and lunged onto Rung, pushing him down onto the berth and forcing his mouth against Rung's in a claiming kiss. “I meant it when I said that you're mine now,” he growled against the psychiatrist's cheek. “Mine alone.”

Rung could only watch in shock as Thunderclash pulled his right arm up and scrutinized the orange plating for a moment before deliberately pressing his thumb into a chosen spot. Rung whimpered at the intense pressure and cried out when it grew strong enough to dent the plating sharply. As the mech released him, Rung stared, unbelieving of what had just happened. Thunderclash had intentionally damaged him. “What did you do that for?”

“That mark. That's my badge of ownership,” Thunderclash said lowly, taking the psychiatrist's arm and showing the dent to his mate proudly. “You're not to remove it,” he said in a tone of deepest seriousness.

“Thunderclash?” Rung whimpered, confused and smarting and completely in disbelief of what was happening.

“Hush now. I'm ready for another round.” Large hands moved to spread Rung's thighs once again.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Rung woke alone in Thunderclash's berth, a cycle before his first appointment of the day, and he staggered into the washrack. His joints ached and his sensor net still tingled with static. Had all that really happened? Had that really been Thunderclash? He turned on the water and soaked himself in the hot, heavy spray from above.

There was a message in his inbox from the mech in question. He looked at his arm again and the dent was still there.

“I am so, so sorry to leave you to wake up alone, sweetspark. Rodimus wanted me with him on the Rodpod for some planet-side hop. I hope I can make it up to you when I return. How about a dip in the oil reservoir later? I'll get Velocity to come with us. She gives the most amazing oiled-cable rubs you've ever experienced. Medics, you know.  
Your most loving and devoted Thunderclash.”

And later when Thunderclash met him in one of the Lost Light's lounges, Rung was greeted with a tender kiss, a showing of affection that was accompanied by the jealous sighs of the other mechs nearby. “I brought this for you.” Thunderclash pulled a huge, gaudy pink flower from his subspace, immediately filling the area with a pungent perfume. He dipped to one knee and presented it to the psychiatrist with some ceremony. “Perceptor said that if we put the stem into a container of water it will stay beautiful for a orn at least.”

Rung took the flower. This was the Thunderclash that had courted him—not the one whose berth he'd shared the previous night. “Well thank you. This is a nice gift.”

Thunderclash smiled and rose again. “It's not much, but I thought you'd like it. Now if you'll forgive me I do need to fuel, but I'd be delighted for your company. He held out an arm, offering to escort Rung with him.

Rung took it. “I think I could give you that.” He looked at the flower—some sort of alien rose—and tucked it into his own subspace.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The hand on Rung's throat tightened. This time Rung was in Thunderclash's lap, turned away from him as the big mech thrust up into his valve. “Rung, you're such a naughty mech. I saw you looking at Cyclonus.”

“I was watching Tailgate because he was having such a hard time with the depth of the reservoir,” Rung defended.

The hand on his neck tightened.

“So it was Tailgate that caught your eye? What are you doing saying that you're mine if it's a minibot you really want to be with? Hmm?” Thunderclash accused.

Possessive. Jealous. Controlling. Demanding. Thunderclash was definitely someone different in their most intimate moments. “No, it's not like that! I was just...” Between appointments that day he'd searched for some explanation of his lover's disparate behaviors but had not come up with anything.

“Why do you want some minibot? A minibot can't do this to you...” Thunderclash grabbed Rung around the waist, jerked him abruptly off of his spike, flipped him onto his back on the berth, lifted one of his legs over his shoulder, and immediately resumed thrusting into him. The upward curve of Thunderclash's spike meant the ceiling nodes were getting a full workout. “This is why you want me. Not some foolish little minibot. Isn't it? Someone to frag you good and hard,” he growled.

Rung's whimpers became a keen of pleasure as he spiraled toward overload. “Yes. Yes it it is. Thunderclash, I'm so close.”

Thunderclash pulled back, leaving just the broad tip of his spike inside the sloppy valve—sloppy from the mix of Rung's lubricants and two of Thunderclash's overloads. “You're a naughty mech, Rung. What makes you think you deserve to overload?”

Rung whimpered. This again?

-o-o-o-o-o-

Rung woke to his alarm and he squirmed out of Thunderclash's embrace, hoping not to wake his lover, but the mech stirred. “You have to go already?” the big mech asked sleepily.

“Yes.” Rung hurried to the washrack and switched on the water. A quick cleaning and then he had to get away. This was too much. He could feel that something had been broken inside of him last night. But as he reached for the soap he was joined by Thunderclash. “I should help you since I'm the one who got you all sticky,” said the big mech with a soft smile.

Rung found himself backing up against the wall. “I'm fine. I can take care of it.”

“Would you let me help, sweetspark?” Thunderclash asked. The voice was gentle—free of the harsh growl of the night before. He took one of the large sponges in hand, squeezed some of the liquid soap onto it, knelt before Rung and pulled the orange mech toward him. With an adoring expression the big Autobot tenderly began to clean his lover.

Rung froze and let Thunderclash take care of him. The big mech interspersed his careful strokes of the sponge with fluttering kisses to psychiatrist's plating.

“I've comm'ed Velocity again. She'll see you in the medbay before your appointments,” Thunderclash said, sounding almost embarrassed.

-o-o-o-o-o-

“It's just a minor tear. I'll have it fixed in a jiffy,” said Velocity, lifting her head from between Rung's thighs. “Get used to it.”

“Get used to it?”

“You're with Thunderclash now, aren't you?” She reached up and stroked her fingertip through the particular dent on Rung's forearm.

Stunned, he looked at her questioningly. She knew?

“He's a good mech to be with. Loving and devoted to a fault... if you can handle his needs.”

Rung stared blankly at her. How did she know? Well of course she'd know. She'd been the medic aboard the Vis Vitalis before they'd joined up with the Lost Light. 

“You know then?”

She nodded. “I was with his team long enough to learn about his... romantic habits.”

“So you do know.” He fixed her with an inquiring gaze, but she answered before he could ask the question.

“Not first hand though. From one of his previous lovers.”

“I see.”

She moved to a cabinet and filled a tray with tools. “When this happens again, just comm' me.”

“When it happens again?” Rung sucked in a deep breath of air. Again?

“It will,” she said flatly. “And when it does, I can make a house call if you'd like.”

Rung sighed and lay back onto the berth, staring at the ceiling. Apparently Thunderclash's rough enthusiasm wasn't just new-relationship excitement. He was always this way. “Velocity?” he asked after a while.

“Mmm?” She came back to the medberth and set the tray of tools into the medberth's brackets for it. “Has Thunderclash had a lot of lovers?”

She pulled up a stool, gently pushed the psychiatrist's thighs apart, and set to swabbing the damaged area clean in preparation for the repair. “Only one that I've met. And not many from what I've heard. It's a special mech that can meet his conditions. The whole monogamy thing, and the fact that he's a monster in the berth. Even with the damage to his spark he's still very demanding of and physically taxing on his lovers.”

Rung winced, and not from her touch.

“But if you can handle him in the berth, you've got a caring, devoted partner who will do his utmost to love and defend you.”

“Who was he with before? May I ask?”

Velocity paused and pulled her hands back with a sigh. And then she scowled.

“I'm sorry. It wasn't my place to ask.”

“No, it's not that.” She patted his leg reassuringly, and then thought for a moment. “Did you hear about Paddox? The Stentarian?”

“Thunderclash's first mate?” Rung quickly put two and two together. “Oh... Oh goodness.” He himself had dealt the undoing blow to the undercover agent... sort of. Swerve had been the one to use him as a club.

“We were all surprised when he began courting you. We thought he wouldn't have been willing to try again for much, much longer. A bit of irony there,” she chuckled, apparently remembering the same event.

“I can imagine.”

“But he needs someone.” Velocity picked up a couple of tools and set to work removing some of the shielding in Rung's hips.

“I guess he saw me as a safe choice.”

“Probably,” Velocity said with a nod. “Perhaps there's a bit of gratitude there as well.” And then she set her tools down, stood, and took his hand. “Promise me you'll be good to him? For me? For all of us?”

-o-o-o-o-o-

Rung cried out as Thunderclash shoved him face-down into the berth, then grabbed his hips and yanked them up. A huge hand shoved his knees apart and slapped his aft. “Open,” the bigger mech growled.

The slender mech did and immediately a spike was stuffed harshly into his half-lubricated valve, at which he cried out again.

“Quit being such a newspark. This isn't your first time,” came another growl.

Thunderclash was right. The first time Rung had faced anyone he'd had a wonderful lover who'd been sweet and caring and ever so patient—everything Thunderclash was outside of the berth. The ancient memory was a treasured one.

Thunderclash began thrusting, each buck of his hips rubbing Rung's faceplate against the berth cover. He whimpered and his hands scrabbled for purchase hoping to stabilize himself somewhat. The hand slapped his aft again and the psychiatrist's entire frame tensed from the cables in his neck to the struts in his ankles. His valve clenched involuntarily, at which Thunderclash made a pleased sounding rumble.

Rung took a deep invent. He'd thought about this matter for many long cycles since Velocity's repairs. Thunderclash's roughness in the berth wasn't going to end anytime soon. It would probably never end.

Velocity had been right about that. She had been right about everything. He recalled the conversation he'd had with her as she put him back together. Thunderclash was a good mech to be with, if he could handle his needs. Perhaps someday he'd find at least a name for whatever this condition was, and perhaps someday he could work his lover past it.

His hands curled into determined fists. Thunderclash was right. He could take it.

-o-o-o-o-o-  
-o-o-o-  
-o-

The End

-o-  
-o-o-o-  
-o-o-o-o-o-


End file.
